


Gift

by LostCauses (Anteros)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, M/M, eruri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:11:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7671343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/LostCauses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's a spot of ink," Levi stabs a slender calloused finger in the general direction of Erwin’s right arm. "There on your sleeve."<br/>“Oh that, that’s been there for ages, it's an old shirt," Erwin replies.<br/>“You’re the Commander of the Survey Corps, not a fucking pen pusher, appearances matter.”<br/>“That’s a fair point,” Erwin concedes, “but sadly being a pen pusher comes with the job.  As you can see I’m currently chained to this desk and the only person who has to suffer my shoddy appearance is you.  Which reminds me, why are you here anyway Levi?  Can I help you with something?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [momtaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momtaku/gifts).



“There’s a spot.”

“What?” 

Erwin doesn’t look up, attention focused on the report he’s writing.

“A spot,” Levi repeats slowly, “of ink.”

“What? Where?”

Erwin blinks, looks up, pen poised in hand.

“Are you blind old man? There, on your sleeve.”

Levi stabs a slender calloused finger in the general direction of Erwin’s right arm. He looks down at his sleeve and sure enough there’s a faded spot of ink on his shirt cuff.

“Oh that, that’s been there for ages.”

“Tch. Why haven’t you washed it out then?”

“I’ve tried, it won’t come out, it’s an old shirt.”

Levi snorts in disgust and Erwin frowns at the small, irritated man seated on the couch opposite his desk. Now he comes to think of it, he’s not entirely sure what Levi is doing in his office or when he came in.

“You’re the Commander of the Survey Corps,” Levi continues.

“Apparently so.” Erwin gives up on his report, places the pen down and folds his hands on the desk in front of him. “What exactly is your point Captain?” 

“You’re the Commander, not a fucking pen pusher, appearances matter.”

Levi rolls his eyes, making it clear just how much it pains him to have to explain the obvious.

“That’s a fair point,” Erwin concedes, “but sadly being a pen pusher comes with the job. As you can see I’m currently chained to this desk and the only person who has to suffer my shoddy appearance is you. Which reminds me, why are you here anyway Levi? Can I help you with something?”

Levi huffs, crossing both arms and legs, twisting himself into a tight little knot of annoyance.

Erwin knows that Levi often struggles to express himself with words so he has grown adept at interpreting his signals, reading his cues. Right now however Erwin is struggling to understand what is troubling his captain. Levi is fastidious to a fault, but even by his usual exacting standards, a single faded spot of ink on an old shirt that no one of importance will ever see, hardly warrants the pent up frustration radiating from the man. 

Slowly, deliberately, Erwin rolls up his shirtsleeves to conceal the offending spot, pushing the bunched fabric up over the swell of his forearms. Short of removing his shirt, it’s the best he can do at present.

“There. Is that better?”

Levi stares, mouth falling open on an odd half strangled sound. Without another word he pushes himself to his feet, and stalks out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Erwin’s eyes remain fixed on the door for a long moment, brows furrowed in concern, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to his report.

* * *

Erwin is putting the final touches to the report late the following afternoon when Levi marches into his office unannounced and uninvited, and drops a package onto his desk. Plain brown paper tied neatly with string.

Erwin stares at the package and then looks up at the captain.

“What’s this?”

“What does it fucking look like? Just open it.”

Levi stands in front of the desk, arms folded across his chest, glaring down the slope of his small nose. Erwin decides it’s best to do as he’s told. He opens the package carefully and inside the unassuming wrapping he finds a shirt. Not just any shirt, a shirt made of the finest white linen from one of the most expensive tailors in Sina. A shirt with ES monogrammed in white silk inside the collar. Erwin has never owned anything this fine before. He’s dumbfounded.

“Levi…where did you get this?”

“Well I didn’t fucking steal it if that’s what you mean,” Levi snaps, looking away.

“Levi,” Erwin chastises gently, “you know that’s not what I mean.”

He lifts the shirt from the package and as the folds drop out he can tell it is precisely his size, tailored to perfection.

“It’s beautiful Levi. But why….”

“You need a new shirt,” Levi cuts him off before he can finish.

“I have other shirts. This must have cost a fortune. I can’t accept this.”

Levi’s gaze slides away as Erwin looks up to meet his eyes, but there’s nothing he can do to hide the faint flush of pink colouring his cheeks.

“Just fucking wear it, all right?” 

And with that he turns on his heel and he’s gone.

Erwin sits silently, holding the shirt, running his fingers over the tiny white monogram. The silk feels cool and smooth under his fingertips and there’s an odd tightness in his chest that’s making it hard to breathe.

Eventually he folds the shirt carefully and lays it aside in its packaging so he can finish the report. He reads it over one last time, checking for any last errors or inconsistencies. Satisfied that nothing has escaped his attention, he draws a line under the final paragraph and signs and dates the report. Then he stops, pen frozen in his hand, staring at the date. And that’s when the pieces fall into place. 14th of October, his birthday.


End file.
